Sisyphus Ponders Escape

Here we are, back to Sisyphus, the mythological Greek king of Ephyra (or Corinth) who was condemned to push a boulder endlessly uphill as punishment for his sneaky deceitfulness. His punishment was overseen in the underworld by Hades. Cerberus, the 3-headed dog, guarded the diamond-encrusted gates to the underworld, allowing anyone to enter but keeping shades from leaving.

This week’s poem was originally published in Fickle Muses in September, 2016. I mentioned the poem on the blog earlier, when it first came out.

Sisyphus Ponders Escape

It’s not as if I’m dead. OK, technically, I am dead,
but not dead dead like the shades that wander Elysium’s borders.

I’m as alive as you. I have thoughts. Beliefs. As in, I don’t believe
this is my end or yours. Nothing is fated.

A guy gave me a good offer for my rock. That’s a problem
with the delusional dead: thinking they have control.

He wandered off, looking for something more. Left me
a working knowledge of his smart phone. Cell

signals flow everywhere on my trek. But who to call?
What’s worth more than my rock? Freedom? Sunlight?

Nothing that he offered. Recharging isn’t needed, though I sleep
a little longer each day. If this is a day. I repeat myself,

the rock grows broader, my arms shorter. I’ve many ideas
how to wriggle out of my fate. If dead, I wouldn’t have

ideas, wouldn’t believe the Fates themselves can be bribed.
Nose, tooth, eye. They could clip Hades’ thread if they wanted.

By the time this riot was back in order, I’d be gone. Dead,
if I don’t exist elsewhere. Why stay where nothing’s gained?

You know, Fate isn’t three crones, just harbors the hatred of three.
I’m not using my appendix, bowels, don’t need all my digits.

Like old furniture, they take up space. She could have them.
So bloodthirsty, I suppose she’d throw them to Cerberus.

Wait. I could do that myself. Hold that bargain, Fate.

If you enjoyed Sisyphus Ponders Escape

Did you ever think you needed help, would have to make a major sacrifice for that help, then suddenly it seems as if, perhaps, you could get by without that help, make things happen for yourself? Sisyphus is having that kind of moment here. I’ll leave it to you to decide whether he is just deluding himself or not.

You can read more of my work on this blog or in the collection Stars Crawl Out From Their Caves, which is available in both ebook and print.

I hope you have a good week this week. Look for another poem next Monday.

As always, your comments are welcome.